


The Hurt

by spn_beatkid



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Caring Sam Winchester, Castiel Dies, Crying Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel One Shot, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mention of Character Death, Post-Season/Series 12, Sad Dean Winchester, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Season 12, destiel ficlet, destiel hurt, destiel trash, ending season 12, supernatural s12e23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spn_beatkid/pseuds/spn_beatkid
Summary: Cas dies. And Dean doesn't know who this is worse for: the angel, or him.





	The Hurt

Cas is. Cas is. Cas is. Cas is. Cas is. Is. 

Dean's head hurts. His whole body hurts. From the fight. He knows it's from the fight. When Lucifer threw him around. Like he was a pup. Like he was nothing. Though, he's had worse. It's not because of the fight. His brain is just trying to make him believe that. Because believing anything is better than accepting the truth.

The truth is that Cas is. Cas is. 

“Fuck!“ Dean knows he will wake Sam up. Dean knows this has been going on for weeks now. He can't really stop it. He wants it to stop, of course he does. It's just not that easy. Nothing was ever easy for them. For him. But this is by far the worst thing he has ever done. Trying to get over. Over.

“Fuck, fuck!“ It's like he doesn't know any other word anymore. It's like his brain is on shut-down. Sometimes, he isn't even able to form the four-letter-word. Sometimes, he simply curls up into a little ball. And just makes these noises. Noises he didn't even know he was capable of making. Like a wounded animal. Not screaming. Not crying. Something worse.

He would curl up into himself and wish he could just disappear. He wishes Cas had just disappeared. It would be easier to accept than this. Than him being. He's clawing at his hair. Again. His fingernails are scratching his scalp. Drawing blood. He doesn't care. Pain is something he got oblivious to quite some time ago. At least the physical one.

Dean knows he's crying. He has done so for hours on end. Can't stop. He knows he should hydrate. That's what he always used to tell Sam after one of his fits. Now, the occasional jug of alcoholic baverages has to do. It's almost like he tries. Really tries to wreck himself to the point of no return.

At least that way he could be with Cas. See him again, hear his voice again. Fuck, fuck. He thought about it again. Allowed the truth to sneak into his brain again. Even though he tries not to. Think about it. The truth that Cas is. Is dead.

A cracked sound escapes Dean's lips. Suddenly, it feels like his fingers are scratching at nothing. Like he lost himself. Can't feel his own body anymore. His breathing starts to get ragged. He feels like drowning. There's not enough oxygen in his lungs. He has to make sure. Has to make sure he's still alive. That this is real.

He takes his head. One hand on either side. Right where his ears are. And slams it against the wall. It hurts. It hurts but for a split second, he almost feels like he's thinking straight. It's not enough. He hits the wall. Again. Again. It's the tenth or so hit that Sam comes rushing into the room.

His room. Their room. Cas used to spend hours on end with him in here. Talking about everything and nothing. Dean can feel the tears rolling down his face again. He is a little surprised he still has some left. Sam's huge hands land on his shoulders. Keep him from hitting the wall again.

“Dean, Jesus fucking Christ, Dean.“ He needs several seconds to register his brother's voice. It's like he is under water. Cotton candy stuck in his ears. “Dean, what are you doing oh fuck, please stop.“ Sam cradles Dean's head in his hands. There's blood. Dean registers. He wonders whose it is. He should probably call Cas so he can help the poor guy with his angel-mojo.

An inhumane sound escapes his lips. Fuck. Right. Cas is. Cas is. Is. At some point, he realizes his cheek is pressed into the rough cotton of Sam's flannel shirt. It scratches. It smells a little like home. Dean's breath shudders and he hiccups. Cries some more. Sam's hand is stroking over his back. Calmingly so. In the beginning, that makes things worse. After a while, Dean doesn't feel it anymore. Just like any other thing but the emptiness.

He doesn't know for how long they sit on the bed like that. Dean crying in Sam's arms. Or maybe not crying. He's not sure. Everything has been one big blur ever since. Since Cas. Finally, his little brother speaks up.

“Dean. Dean I know he was your best friend. I know you miss him. But it's almost been four months. You can't stay like this forever. You need to pull yourself together. Please, do it for the sake of family.“ They both know he's right.

Dean shifts around in his brother's arms a little. Turns his head so he can speak. And those are the first words to leave his mouth in the presence of his brother in four months. They sound crooked. And at first, neither of the boys is sure they actually heard them. They actually were real. “I loved him.“

They both know how he means it. Know the impact of the words. And Sam knows that this isn't over yet. That he'll still be on suicide watch every night. And Dean knows that he will never ever be back to normal. If there ever was such a thing in the first place. Because he could have told him. Told Cas. Everything.

And now Cas is. Cas is. Cas is. Is. He's dead. And this time, his angel won't come back for him.


End file.
